


You’ve Got a Fire in Your Belly

by I_want_to_believe



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Disordered Eating, Friends to Lovers, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Rating May Change, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Soup Kitchens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24160567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_want_to_believe/pseuds/I_want_to_believe
Summary: After a particularly cold night, Peter Parker finds himself seeking a warm meal from the local soup kitchen. He is shocked to find that the person serving him is none other than his patrol buddy, Deadpool. But why is Deadpool here and what does he want from an unmasked Peter Parker?—-Also known as: The One Where Peter is Homeless. The tags and ratings might change as this story progresses. Thanks so much for reading!
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 77
Kudos: 423





	1. Chapter 1

It was another cold night. The kind of night where everything in you wants to curl up under a heavy comforter, feel the weighty embrace as you drift to sleep. It was most definitely not the kind of night for swinging through the air in nothing but a thin spandex suit. However, as luck would have it, that was precisely where Peter Parker found himself; flipping through the air at an unprecedented speed tailing his latest foe.

He knew it was a bad idea to be moving with this kind of fervor on a night like this, and knew he should slow down to save energy. After all, Peter would need it on such a cold night. But as much as he wished for the day he could worry about himself, Peter also knew the mission came first. That’s why an hour --and a day's worth of burned calories-- later, the chase concluded with a dozen men webbed to various public buildings waiting for the distant police sirens to draw nearer.

As he slinkled away from the scene, Peter started to feel his legs sway beneath him. Now that the adrenaline from the chase had dissipated he began to feel the effects of the calorie deficit he’d created for himself. His head felt foggy, his mouth too full of saliva. As he changed out of his suit and into the civies he kept in his pack webbed beneath a nearby dumpster, Peter neary succumbed to his darkening vision, saved at the last instant by his own sticky hand against a brick wall. 

Thank god the change of clothes allowed him to blend back in with the rest of New York. It was almost comical really, the way that he would go from being a man seen by millions of people around the world to one seen by none at all in the brief moment it took to change a shirt. 

The city was tucked in and fast asleep by now. Not for the first time this evening Peter wished he could be the same. The man puffed some hot air into his hands and rubbed them together as he rounded the corner of the alleyway and looked up at the shining light of the bodega sign in the distance.

Walking the short distance to the store felt like an eternity. Each step was heavy and slow as though wading through thick honey. When he finally reached bodega’s stoop though Peter felt some small semblance of comfort. Or at least a feeling adjacent to comfort that was about as close as he was able to get these days.

Peter spread out his cardboard sheet and pulled out the sleeping bag from his pack. He wiggled his way into the bag and huddled up against the westward facing wall to try and shield himself as much as possible from the wind. He was dimly aware of his own shivering. Angry at his body’s betrayal. 

His eyelids were heavy; all Peter wanted to do was get to sleep as soon as possible. Though he knew he didn't stand much of a chance of that tonight, not with such cold weather and such little food in his stomach. If only Deadpool was back in town. Peter had grown accustomed to their late-night post-patrol mexican food binges. Relied on them really. But it had been a few weeks with no word from deadpool. 

Peter tried not to worry. Deadpool was strong, the strongest superhero he’d ever worked with. Sure Captain America could beat Deadpool in an arm wrestle, but Deadpool’s strength was never about his muscles, rather his body’s resilience. Its healing factor. Nights like this Peter often thought about what it would be like to have Wade’s powers. To not have to worry about things like malnourishment, broken bones or this damned cold weather. 

Then again, Peter’s sure he’d still find something to worry about. He’d always been a worrier. That’s why despite knowing that nothing could possibly hurt Deadpool in any way that stuck, Peter still found himself fretting over whether the merc was okay as he drifted off to sleep.

Peter just hoped tomorrow wasn't another cold night.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter woke up the next morning to the sound of a car honking its horn around the corner. The sky was already bright and the morning rush of people headed to work was underway. He groaned and rolled back over to face the wall, hoping to gain five more minutes of rest. In the back of his mind Peter cursed his highschool self for not being more appreciative of that luxury. He recalled begging Aunt May for those five extra minutes of sleep every morning and every morning she would comply. 

Now however, no matter how tired his body felt, no matter how heavy his eyelids, Peter made himself get up and moving. Usually he aimed to get off the stoop before Mr. Delmar arrived to open the store. Not that the man had ever expressed disdain for Peter sleeping there overnight, on the contrary really. Mr. Delmar would usually try to give him some food from the shop but Peter, ever the bleeding heart, didn’t want to be a nuisance so would escape early to avoid any awkwardness.

On that particular morning Peter wanted to find somewhere to warm up, so after ditching his sleeping bag and backpack in its usual place he headed for the public library. Peter loved the library. These days, it was one of the only places that he could still visit as himself rather than his crimson-clad alter ego. Not only did the library provide warmth, internet access and as many books as he could possibly want, it also provided a lonely Peter with some semblance of normalcy. Normalcy was a feeling that was very important these days and it was so hard to come by.

Peter began by heading over to the computer station. He powered up the old box-monitor and the computer tower, blowing off a thin layer of dust. Presumably that had something to do with the free wifi most of his fellow library attendees chose to use. Of course, wifi was not an option for Peter since he didn’t possess any devices of his own to connect with. 

He opened up his email account--or rather spidey’s email. The account had been set up a year or so ago when he first started teaming up with Wade on a regular basis. It was easier to have some sort of communication for when the other man was out of town on missions for SHIELD. The red circle displaying a new message notification sent a jolt of anticipation through Peter's body but when he opened the mailbox he was disappointed by the contents. “Hot Single Men in Your Area”, the subject line read. Peter chuckled to himself about the absurdity of the spam mail before sending it to his junk folder. He guessed that meant Wade was still out of town. Ugh, if only he had some idea of when the other man would be back. Then at least Peter wouldn't be thinking about him all the time.

Peters cursor drifted over to the compose email tab. “Hey Wade,” he began to type, “I saw a dog in the park yesterday that nearly pulled its owner over trying to get at a hotdog someone dropped on the sidewalk. Made me think of you. Anyways, hope the trip is going well! Let me know when you’re back in town, I’m sure we can find a few baddies who are begging to meet Bea and Arthur. Say hi to Yellow and White for me. -SM”

After sending that email off Peter opened up a new tab for the Daily Bugle. As per usual he was on the front page. For a newspaper that really didn't seem to like him, the Bugle talked about Spiderman a heck of a lot. The photo that went along with the article was a disgrace. The masked vigilante was blurry and barely in frame, nothing like the caliber of photos that Peter used to deliver to Jameson every week. Then again, in fairness to this new photographer, they weren’t able to set the camera up before the fights even began. With that in mind, Peter guessed the pictures weren’t all that bad.

Since the internet is the internet, hours passed in what felt like minutes. In a blink of an eye it was the afternoon and Peter had the shape of the monitor’s glowing screen burned into his retinas. Time for a break he thought. He checked the gmail one more time with no luck and then logged off the computer. 

He was familiar with this library from his university days. Back in first year he spent a lot of time here with Gwen studying. The two of them would sit up on the second floor in the reading nook with the comfy bean bag chairs and couches pouring over their books and flinging twizzlers at each other when they got bored. Nowadays Peter couldn’t bring himself to go up to the second floor. It brought back too many memories of her. The ground floor was okay though. It provided just enough familiarity to be comfortable without so much that it sent his mind back to that night on the bridge. 

Peter rounded the corner into the student book section feeling a sense of nostalgia once again for a simpler time. As he continued through the shelves he stumbled across Yann Martel’s “Life of Pi”. His highschool English class had been assigned to read it but back then Peter was just starting to get a grip of his powers and making a name for himself as Spiderman so he never actually got around to it. Instead, when the time came to write the essay Peter read the chapter about the carnivorous island and spent four pages discussing the symbolism in that chapter alone. His teacher praised his ingenuity and complete understanding of the text. Peter had to bite back a laugh at that before quickly backtracking to thank her for the kind words of praise. 

Life was easier then. Back when he could bullshit his way out of the things he didn't want to do and could sleep in for those five extra minutes.

Peter walked up to the front desk, book in hand, digging around in his pocket for the library card. The woman behind the counter gave a grimace. “What?’’ she barked.. 

Peter’s brow wrinkled “I’d like to borrow this book please,” the break in his voice reminded him that that was the first time he’d spoken in, well who knows how many days. 

“You have to have a library card” 

“Oh yeah, I know. Sorry. Just give me one sec,” he replied while unzipping his hoodie to try the inside pocket 

With that the woman’s eyes opened wide “Sir, sir!” she half shouted, gaining the attention of all the other patrons. “Whatever you’re reaching for, stop it! You're going to have to leave.” 

Realizing what was going on Peter tried to clarify and ease the woman’s nerves. “I’m just trying to get my--” he was cut off mid sentence when a hand grabbed his shoulder. Behind him was a man in a sweater vest, clearly nervous and out of his depth, but trying to help.

“Hey buddy just do what she asked okay? Nobody wants any trouble and there are kids here.” With that Peter looked behind the man's shoulder and into the massive eyes of a little girl intently observing from atop a stuffed dragon chair in the kids reading corner. Peter sighed, looked at the book sitting on the desk, back to the man, and showed himself out. 

So much for a sense of normalcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the read! I’m going to try and get another chapter up tomorrow. Constructive comments are always welcome because this is my first fic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some talk about how lack of food has been effecting Peter’s body. This may be triggering to those with certain eating disorders.

Back out on the sidewalk Peter scurried away from the library in a huff. The icy chill of the wind cut through his flimsy hoodie but did nothing to distract him from the rage bubbling up inside. He was sick and tired of this kind of thing always happening. Why did people take one look at Peter and assume that he was some kind of ne’er-do-well. All he wanted was to rent a book and that woman threw him out as if he were about to pull out a gun. 

The frequency of these fearful reactions had only been increasing as Peter spent more time on the streets. A few weeks back, a businessman who was talking angrily on his phone had passed Peter by when some papers flew out of his briefcase. Peter had used his Spidey reflexes to catch the papers out of the air and had called out to get the man’s attention. The man had spun around and spat out a quick “I don't have any money for you,” before continuing to walk. Peter had been briefly stunned but after glancing at the papers and noting their importance he followed the man, calling out once again while waving the looseleaf in the air. This time the man put the phone down. “What the fuck do you want man? Stop fucking following me!” he had shouted at Peter. A nearby cop then got involved, alerted by the commotion. Peter thanked his ability to scale walls for getting him out of an arrest after the man in the suit claimed the papers were stolen.

He wondered how often did these kinds of encounters happen when Peter was the one in uniform. Had he ever been on patrol and ended up webbing an innocent to the wall and leaving them there to face unfair trial just because of prejudice? He hoped not.

It was as though Peter had two secret identities these days. People either saw him as their friendly neighbourhood spiderman, a hero and symbol of justice; or as a homeless man, dirty, lazy and threatening. He missed being plain old Peter Parker. Missed being seen for who he really was rather than a one dimensional caricature. 

His shoulders were shivering again, last winter was a lot easier. Back then Peter still had a fair bit of meat on his bones--as Aunt May would’ve said. He also had more steady access to food with the occasional photo published in the Bugle. Spiderman’s enhanced healing factor and metabolism were as much of a curse around this time of year as they were a blessing. His body burned through calories too fast and he was left without the energy to fight or keep warm. It was a vicious cycle. When he used up too much energy on healing his fighting was impaired. That only led to getting more injuries which again resulted in the healing factor kicking off. On and on the pattern went until he ended up in the state he was now.

Peter held up his hand in front of his face and wrapped the other around his wrist. He shuddered at the ease at which his fingers encircled it. No wonder he felt his spiderman suit growing baggy, his body must be metabolising his own muscle mass. 

At this, Peter was broken out of his own thoughts and shocked to see where his feet had taken him. Just up the block was F.E.A.S.T, a shelter and soup kitchen. One that Spiderman had taken many sick and hungry people to, but had never frequented as Peter. 

Peter never felt like he deserved to be fed by the kind volunteers at these establishments. It was funny really, despite the fact that he had been sleeping on Mr. Delmars stoop Peter never really felt like he was in the position to receive charity. He hated the idea of Spiderman eating the food that should be going to those in need. After all, he was one of the strongest people in the city and asking for help only ever made him feel weak.

Today however Peter truly was weak. It had been a long time coming really. Months of wasting away leading up to this point, but in all the time that Peter had been living like this it had never gotten this bad. 

He stood across the street from the kitchen, staring up at the sign as if in a trance, thinking it all over for quite some time. Then Peter saw a familiar face head through the doors of the shelter. It was a woman who Spiderman had administered naloxone to. He had taken her to the hospital and given her the business card for this very shelter. That made Peter smile. She looked good. Healthy. He was glad that she had taken Spiderman’s advice. That thought provided Peter a sense of clarity as he separated himself from his alter ego. Peter needed to take Spiderman’s advice too and if Spiderman had met Peter in this state he definitely would have brought him to the shelter. 

So with that, Peter walked in.


	4. Chapter 4

F.E.A.S.T was larger than Peter expected, nicer too. The lighting was soft and warmer than a typical office space, it felt homey. He expected to be met by an arsenal of questions as soon as he entered the establishment. He had psyched himself up for it really, preparing what he would say in his head. But the foyer was empty.

Peter proceeded down the large corridor, stopping to look into each doorway as he passed. Some were decorated like classrooms with desks all aligned facing a blackboard. Others appeared to be first-aid rooms. There were also few rooms that had beds lining the walls for those who sought shelter. There were rooms for seemingly everything, yet no people in any of them.

To anyone else these empty corridors may have been quite unnerving but for Peter it was just confusing. His spider sense was not alerting him to any present or past dangers, but if that was the case, where was everyone?

Suddenly a loud clanging noise rang out, followed by a few muffled laughs. “Careful with that!” a muffled voice hushed, “any more dents in that pot and it will roll right off the stove when you set it down.”

“Don’t worry so much,” a much deeper voice replied. “I’ll just drop it a few more times until the bottom flattens back out.” The voices snickered again in unison.

Peter rounded the corner of the hallway following in the direction of the voices. As he did he noted a woman who was seemingly acting as a human door stopper, foot wedged to keep it from closing. “Oh hey,” she said in Peter’s direction, a smile on her face. “You alright man?”

“Uh yeah i'm good,” Peter replied hesitantly. “Do you uh… do you know where everyone is? I expected it to be busier.”

“Did ya try the dining hall?” She asked.

“I’m uh.. I’m not sure where--” 

“Oh you’re new!” She cut Peter off, more interested than before. “Sorry, I’m a bit scatterbrained today, it’s been a busy afternoon.” the woman dusted her hands on her jeans before extending one in Peter’s direction. “I’m Barb,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Peter.”

“Well Peter, I normally would’ve been up at the front to give you the grand tour but you’ve chosen to stop by during the big retirement party for one of our staff members.”

Of course he had. It was just Peter’s luck to finally work up the courage to come into the shelter and impose on a party. “Oh jeez I’m sorry I’m intruding. I can come back another time,” he said, suddenly deterred.

“What? Nah man that's not what I was getting at. You’ve lucked out! We have a bunch of regular food out there plus my buddy baked this massive cake.” Barb pointed her thumb out the door as she spoke. “Hold on one sec,” she stuck her head out the door and into the alleyway on the other side. “Hey Wade!” she shouted.

“What?” the lower voice from earlier, who Peter now knew was known as Wade responded. There was something strange about that voice, gravely and familiar in a way Peter couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“There’s a dude here who’s new to the shelter, I’m going to show him to the kitchen. Do you want me to wedge something in the door to hold it open?”

“Nah it’s okay Babs” Wade replied. “This’ll take me a minute. I can just walk back around to the front door when I’m done.”

With that Barb let the door slam and waved at Peter to follow her. The pair continued further into the shelter with Barb giving a brief rundown of operations. F.E.A.S.T. stood for Food Emergency Aid Shelter and Training but Barb had a sneaking suspicion that it was less of an acronym and more that the founders really wanted it to spell feast. She told Peter about how those in need were able to pick different levels of support that would work within their lifestyle. Some folks took classes on hireability and borrowed business attire for interviews. Others came to F.E.A.S.T. when they were injured or sick for free emergency care and first aid. There were also beds for those who needed a place to sleep however spaces were quickly filling up thanks to the latest cold snap.

“Then of course there’s the food.” Barb said as they entered the dining hall, a big room somewhat reminiscent of a school cafeteria but plastered with streamers, balloons and “Happy Retirement” banners. “Sometimes local restaurants will come do community outreach days and cook these huge batches of their most famous items then help distribute portions to all of our regulars. Most of the time though we rely on our amazing volunteers and food donations from all across the city. Sometimes residents volunteer in the kitchen too so they feel like they’re participating. Are you a good cook Peter?” She queried.

Peter was still awestruck by the scene in front of him. Dozens of people sitting around, laughing, talking and eating. Today’s menu was clearly mexican food of some sort, Peter could smell the cumin from where he stood. It was intoxicating and all of a sudden he was reminded of how hungry he really was. “Uh it's been awhile since I made anything for myself. I’m not really sure.”

“Well that's okay, we’ve got lots of volunteers already,” Barb grabbed a hold of Peter’s elbow and led him further into the room. “Usually we’ll have a team to serve the meals too but since today is a party you can just help yourself at the back over there.” She pointed to some tables lined up buffet style on the opposite side of the room. “Anyways, I better go check on Wade and make sure he didn’t get crushed underneath the world's largest chili pot while he was trying to fit it back into his car. Make sure to stick around for the cake yeah? We’re going to cut into it pretty soon.” and with that Barb floated out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for self-hating speech directly related to disordered eating patterns.

Parties had never really been Peter’s thing. He tended to avoid them unless they were hosted by very close friends or family. So a retirement party for a woman he’d never met was not at all his scene. Nevertheless the room smelled delicious and the noises made by his stomach in response to the aroma were far more embarrassing than the simple act of walking across the room to fill a plate. At that the decision was as good as made; food first, facing the social pariahs later.

As he strode across the room Peter was surprised by the lack of eyes that followed. It seemed everyone was too wrapped up in the festivities to notice his party crashing. 

Peter reached the tables piled high with what looked like weeks worth of mexican food. Peter was suddenly in wonderland, each item on the table calling out “eat me” and “drink me”. F.E.A.S.T had a lot of donors in high places but even for a public kitchen this much food felt a little excessive. On the bright side, it meant that he didn't have to worry about restraining himself from eating a portion suitable for an increased metabolism. 

Peter took his plate towards the eating area. Just like any other cafeteria there seemed to be defined cliques already established. One table appeared to be staff and volunteers, all wearing name tags and matching shirts. The others were all like him, people down on their luck and needing help. One table was full of wannabe mall-santas in dingy coats. One even had a pair of fingerless gloves on as if he were intentionally feeding into the stereotype. Another table was quite clearly made up of addicts in varying states of strung out. What shocked Peter the most however, was how normal most of the other tables looked. Men and women of all ages were here. Many of them looked pretty well put together too. It was stupid of course that he expected everyone to look as “homeless” as he did. After all, a huge part of New York’s unhoused population were the hidden homeless. 

The woman Peter had recognized from earlier was sitting at a table with two others just a few feet away from him. He considered going to sit with her too but decided against it when he realized she would not recognize him back. Instead Peter pulled up a chair at one of the empty tables on the edge of the room and dug into his meal

Eating a meal was almost uncomfortable after all this time. The flavours were too intense and the sensation of his teeth sinking into the food was stomach churning. Despite this though Peter wolfed down the entire plate before racing back to the buffet for seconds. He wasn't sure when he'd get another meal so he might as well stock up on as many calories as possible to keep him satiated for the days to come. 

Halfway through the second plate Peter was hit with a wave of regret. Was there another purpose for the mass amounts of food? Maybe more hungry people were on the way. Who did Peter think he was eating more than he needed for survival when it could've gone to someone else. This is exactly why he didn't want to come here in the first place. He could never do anything right. Oh god he shouldn’t even be here. 

As he stood up to flee there was suddenly a voice echoing over a loudspeaker, “If everyone could please take a seat for a moment,” An elderly woman speaking into a microphone near the front of the room requested.

Well shit, Peter couldn't exactly leave now. That would be even more rude than coming to steal all their food. Plus he should probably finish the plate because even if he left it they couldn't very well give it to someone else. It would just be a waste. This is what he deserves. To sit alone and force himself to eat food that tasted only of guilt while glued to his chair and unable to escape. This was retribution for stealing these rations from his fellow New Yorkers.

“As you all know, I’ve worked with underprivileged individuals and communities for upwards of 40 years. It has been my life's work to provide sanctuary and opportunities to the unhoused and unemployed of this city. I thought for a long time that I’d never retire. I didn’t think I could ever stop this mission. But I realize now that my legacy has never been what I do, rather what I establish for the future. F.E.A.S.T. is my legacy. A place where anyone can come in and take advantage of our resources with no questions asked. A place where no matter your circumstance you are welcome and accepted.” She was teary eyed now. “And the thing is. I did it. We did it. Each and everyone of you worked to foster this environment and make it welcoming. I leave F.E.A.S.T. today in some extremely capable and caring hands. Thank you all.” thunderous applause and hollering began to which the speaker looked humbled. “Okay okay,” she said, wiping the tear from her eye, “I know most of you are just dying to get into that delicious cake that Wade made us, I know I am. So let's get right on that.”

Now was Peter’s chance to leave. He grabbed his used plate and flung himself in the direction of the garbage can to scrape off the remaining food. From there he made a beeline for the door only to be interrupted again by Barb.

“Hey Peter!” she said. “You get a few bites of food in you?”

His stomach churned. A few bites! If only she knew how gluttonous he had been. She surely would have thrown him out and barred his future return. She would hate him. With an uncomfortable gulp Peter nodded, afraid that if he were to speak she would hear his anxiety bubbling under the surface.

She smiled. “Great! Come with me, we’re going to go get some cake.”

“No!” Peter’s abruptness startled even himself. “I mean, thank you for the offer but I’ve had more than enough. I wouldn’t want to take any more from the people who need it.”

Barb spat out a laugh. “Youve got to be kidding right? You saw the size of that cake, there’s no way we could finish it all. I promise.”

“Yeah but--” 

“Nope no buts about it. You clearly weren’t listening to Nancy’s speech. It doesn’t matter why you came here Peter, all that matters is that you did. And you're here now. And you're going to eat cake with me.”

His eyes were fixed on the linoleum, his cheeks flushed as Barb dragged him over to the serving table. One piece of cake. Peter would eat one piece of cake with Barb because she had been so nice to him and was clearly going out of her way to make him feel comfortable. She was truly great at her job. But as it stood he knew he didn't deserve the kindness. So he'd eat his cake and he’d tell her how much he appreciated her effort. He’d let her know that he wouldn’t be returning but that it wasn’t her fault and then he would go. Easy as that.

A cold ceramic plate broke Peter out of his thoughts as it was shoved into his hand. He plastered on a cheshire grin and raised his eyes from the floor to thank whoever had served him. 

The outstretched arm before him was thick and muscular, clad in the blue cotton of the volunteer shirt Peter had seen a few people wearing. He followed the line of the shirt with his eyes up to the nape of the man’s neck, surprised to see red and black fabric emerging from the neckline instead of skin. As Peter’s eyes locked onto those of the serving volunteer it was instantly unmistakable as to who was standing in front of him. 

“Deadpool?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m curious about what my readers would like to see in terms of chapter length. I can stick with this length of chapter and update pretty frequently or I can switch to longer chapters less frequently if that’s what the majority would like. Leave your preference in the comments.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised that this chapter prominently features a panic attack.

The sight of Deadpool standing in front of Peter petrified him. This man, his presence was so commonplace in Spiderman’s life but had never crossed paths into Peter’s. Why was he here? What did he want? It couldn’t just be a coincidence. Peter felt his chest heaving and his pulse racing, but he was stuck in place. His spider sense screamed at him to run but as if he were completely paralyzed, Peter held steadfast. 

Wade knows. He must know, that's the only reason why he would be here. Deadpool knows Peter’s true identity and followed him all the way here to expose him to all the lovely folks who took him in. It’s the only thing that made sense. 

He could see that both Barb and Wade were speaking to him. They were waving their hands and trying to get his attention but it was as though he were hearing them from underwater. Peter was gasping for air, hands clutching his chest. He had to get out of there before Deadpool could out him. That was, unless Deadpool had already told them and Peter had been too absorbed with his own thoughts to notice. Maybe that was why Barb looked so shocked. She must’ve hated him now too.

Peter was going to be sick.

He spun on his heel, finally free from the momentary paralysis and flung himself across the room. His usual agility and grace was a thing of the past as he knocked over chair after chair racing to escape the room swiftly as possible. He rounded the corner leading back into the hallway from which he had come, eyeing the backdoor that Barb had been holding open when they met. With reckless abandon he ripped open the door and shot down the few steps tripping and landing on his hands and knees. He skidded to a halt just in time to feel the wrenching in his gut as his abdomen seized and he threw up on the ground beneath him. 

Tears were streaming down his face. His palms and knees were likely scraped but the adrenaline kept him from feeling any of it as he wretched and wretched for what felt like ages. His body shook uncontrollably but he was still in a flight response made even more apparent when a heavy and warm hand pressed gently to his upper back.

Deadpool was there, ever so familiarly crouched at his side to see if he was okay. It was a pose that echoed their nightly patrols, one man checking to see if the other was okay with a simple touch. Peter would normally find it comforting if the circumstances were any different. As it stood though he needed to get out from under Deadpool's watchful gaze. He felt like prey to the larger man, a gazelle pinned beneath the paw of a lion and knowing that at any moment the predator might shift weight and end his life. 

Peter tried and failed to push himself up from the ground and shake the other man off. Deadpool got the hint and removed his grip. “Don’t stand up.”.

More tears rolled down Peter’s cheeks. He needed to be out of the situation and fast. With the rate at which he was hyperventilating Peter didn't expect to be conscious for much longer. He needed to calm down, but that didn’t seem very likely in the current company.

“Okay so clearly you know who I am,” Deadpool began with an undertone of uncertainty in his voice. “And clearly you’ve heard my reputation for uh-- unaliving people.” He looked to Peter on the pavement below him for some sort of acknowledgement. When he didn’t receive one he carried on. “But I actually have good news for you, I only kill bad guys! Or rather I only killed bad guys. As in, past tense! So like, even if you were a bad guy, which I think would be pretty unlikely because you're crying in an alley and that's not really a bad guy M.O., I wouldn’t kill you. ‘Cause I don’t do that anymore ever since--”

“I know.” Peter choked out the words between gasps. “I know you’re a-- a hero now.”

“Oh shucks man I wouldn’t go as far as to say I’m a hero. Anti Hero maybe, but my ole pal Spidey seems to see something in me so I guess I’m working on being more heroic for him.” Wade bent back down to Peter’s level. “Wait a sec, so if you knew that I wasn’t a badass killer type anymore then what's with the… the y’know…” Wade gestured to Peter’s crumpled form. “Oh shit, White’s right! That was none of my beeswax, you don’t have to answer that.”

Peter could not understand what Wade was getting at. Why he was playing around. After all, he knew why Peter was freaking out. It was because he was going to expose Spiderman’s true identity. It must have been some kind of trick. An attempt to lull him into a sense of false security before he ruined Peter’s life. He had never expected that Wade could be so cruel.

“What do you want from me Deadpool?” he huffed. “Why are you here?”

“That’s easy, I’m here because I’ve seen that face before.”

Just as Peter had suspected. Wade had seen his face. Maybe it happened when his mask had been partially torn in a fight with the Green Goblin a few months back. At the time Wade had made a big show of shielding his eyes and Peter had truly trusted him. What a mistake that had been.

Wade continued, “that’s the face that people make after they’ve just eaten their first meal in a long ass time and they’re about to puke their guts out.”

“Wait. What?” Peter was confused again, was this still a part of the ruse?

“Yeah, there’s this weird thing that not a lot of people talk about when it comes to starvation and like disordered eating. Basically when you don’t eat anything substantial for long enough and then all of a sudden you have a chance for a full meal a lot of people go mega overboard. I guess your body just gets used to surviving on scraps so it freaks out and doesn’t know what to do with all that food. That's when it makes you go call Ralph on the porcelain phone, or in your case alleyway.”

Peter felt lost. Apparently his face reflected that feeling because Wade continued talking. “You know? Upchuck, hurl, spew. Whatever you want to call it. Anyway, it happens to the best of us. Key is to go slow and start with smaller meals that have manageable flavours and textures to get you back in the habit of eating again. Then you can work your way up to scarfing an entire extra large pizza on a rooftop while listening to the soulful ballad of Celine Dion and crying about the boy who broke your heart.” Even Deadpool seemed caught off guard by that last admission. “Or at least that’s my routine,” he said with a shy giggle.

“How do you know all this?” Peter inquired.

“I thought you knew who I was? Clearly your book on the one and only ‘Merc with a Mouth’ is missing a chapter. My whole schtick is that I can’t die right? And trust me, I’ve tried just about every way. Seriously, every. Single. One. Starvation included. Would NOT recommend by the way. Terrible way to die-- oh uh, I didn’t mean… well you know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I started volunteering here not too long after that when I realized that I had more money and time than I knew what to do with and I could actually put it to good use rather than just spend it all on my sorry ass.”

That speech had not been at all what Peter had expected from the conversation. How did he not know Wade volunteered at F.E.A.S.T.? The man usually loved to brag about his efforts to become a better person when they were having slow patrol nights. “That’s really nice of you,” Peter said sincerely. 

“Yeah well,” Wade drifted off. “Hey!” he suddenly jumped up and started patting around his utility belt, searching for something in one of the pockets. “You’re not freaking out anymore!” Apparently the search had been fruitful as he pulled out a little notebook and an IKEA pencil to scribble something down hastily before shoving it back from whence it came. 

Then like a noble giant Wade extended his arm down with an outstretched palm to Peter who took it graciously. The larger man pulled him up from the ground. Now that the evolutionary instinct to flee had mostly worn itself out Peter felt somewhat silly for his reaction. His outburst likely had much more to do with the anxiety that had been building up inside him the entire day than it did with Deadpool himself. Peter really did trust Wade. Plus they had been friends for so long that he could tell when the other man was lying pretty accurately. This conversation had felt sincere. Peter really missed his talks with Deadpool. He was glad to see that the man was back in the city so that they could catch up again.

“Alright so now that you’re vertical, why don’t we go rustle up some grub that won't have you tossing your cookies?” Wade tipped his head in the direction of the door.  
Peter felt an all to familiar wave of anxiety when he considered that proposition. He needed a way to get out of the situation without having to go back in and face all the people who’s food he just wasted in a puddle on the asphalt. In one of his less intelligent moments Peter settled on the air-tight excuse, “thanks but I just ate.” Smooth.

Wade laughed. “Uh yeah you did champ. But then you emptied your stomach all over the pavement out here. C’mon let's go in,” he tried again.

“No,” Peter said a little too forcefully. “Thank you, but no. I- I can’t go back in there right now.”

Wade looked confused and somewhat concerned but nodded solemnly. “Okay fine, wait right here.”

As Deadpool rushed back into the building Peter stretched his shoulders and started walking out to the street. What a strange encounter that had been. Peter felt like he was in on a secret that he wanted to tell his best friend about but couldn’t. Wade would’ve loved to know that he was the only person who had seen both sides of Peter’s life. Unfortunately telling him was out of the question as it might lead to Wade really discovering Peter’s identity. For now Peter guessed it would be his little secret.

“Hey dude, what the fuck?” 

Wade was running up the sidewalk behind Peter now fully decked out in the attire Peter was more familiar with. A red and black suit, sans volunteer shirt this time, with Bea and Arthur strapped to his back. ‘Hi girls’ Peter thought to himself. He had missed them too.

Wade had caught up to Peter but was still waiting for his breath to get the memo. “I should’ve known you were a flight risk so that’s on me but what part of “wait right here” didn’t you understand?”

“Deadpool, wha-” 

Wade cut him off. “Seriously, I mean, I was one of the worlds most skilled mercenaries and what you didn't think I would be able to find you? You’re like a block away and already acting like tracking you down is fucking Mission Impossible Two: Even Impossibler Mission.”

“No no, I get how you’re here. but why? Why are you following me?”

“Cause dummy.” Waded wrapped and arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I’m buying you dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so humbled by the support I’ve been receiving. Thank you so much to everyone reading!
> 
> This chapter was a bit longer than usual but I didn’t want to break the scene down at all since it was the first time Peter and Wade interacted in the fic. 
> 
> I hope you all like it


	7. Chapter 7

Dinner was much less stressful when it was just Peter and Wade, not an entire shelter full of new faces. Wade had likely expected Peter to put up more of a fight about his proposition to buy the other man a meal. Luckily for him Peter was never one to turn down a social opportunity with his best friend, even when said best friend didn’t know who he was.

Conversation flowed surprisingly well out of the mask. Sure he had to sit through a fair number of stories he’d already heard before, but it was still enjoyable. It was also nice to be able to openly share his own anecdotes for once. As Spiderman Peter never really got to open up to Deadpool about his personal life. He was glad to finally be able to tell Wade the story of how he accidentally dyed his face and half of his clothing blue after falling asleep on the wrong public bench. The way the man’s raucous laughter filled the room made Peter’s heart leap. He knew that story would be a hit with Deadpool, he was so glad to finally have the means to tell it.

Wade had taken Peter to Spidey’s favourite ramen place. He had actually bragged about it on the way over insisting that, “it must be the best food in the city since the best person in the city likes it so much”. That comment had made Peter blush at the time but he played it off pretty well. 

Eating inside the restaurant was a new experience. Usually the duo would sit on a rooftop somewhere while slurping the noodles back and staking out some kind of criminal organization. It was nice to be able to just sit and enjoy the food and the company without being so on edge. It was also a chance to be out of the cold for a little longer which was always a welcome surprise.

Peter had let Wade order for him since the masked man insisted that he knew what would be best for Peter’s sensitive stomach. His selection wasn’t something that Peter would normally get for himself, but he trusted Wade’s palate. They had been to a lot of restaurants together since the start of their friendship yet Wade’s recommendations had never led him astray. 

When the food finally came the large bowl was set in front of Peter. “Holy cow Deadpool! I thought you said I was supposed to start with small meals?” 

“Yeah I did say that. That’s why we’re going to split this one.” Just as Wade finished his sentence a waitress appeared holding to smaller bowls and a ladle for the soup. Wade thanked her politely before beginning to dish out their portions.

“Did I already tell you about the first time Spidey and I came here?” Wade asked.

Peter dipped his chopsticks into the broth, stirring in the scallions that had been laid on top. He remembered that day pretty well actually but he wondered how the other man’s perception of the evening compared to his own. “No I don’t think you did,” he said expectantly..

Wade tilted his head back and dropped a clump of noodles directly into his mouth from an arms length away. As he chewed he put a fist up to his lips to shield the view when spoke with his mouth full “Okay so picture this: Spidey and I had just been out keeping the city safe, you know, friendly neighbourhood Spideypool kind of thing. All of a sudden, we had run into a friend of ours; he’s a hero type who works out of Hell’s Kitchen. This friend tells us he’s got this big bust but he needs backup. So the three of us go off and get our asses kicked. It was just… such a complete failure. Spidey and Red were lucky to get out of there in one piece. I was lucky to get out of there in two.”

“Wow that sounds horrible,” Peter remarked.

“It wasn’t our finest moment that's for sure, but this story was months ago. We’ve caught the guys responsible now. This isn't about villains who are still walking free or anything don't worry.” Deadpool took another slurp of the soup. “So Spidey swings us to safety and our buddy heads off to go do whatever it is he does after a fight goes wrong-- which I assume is just to find another fight. 

“But Spidey and I are just sitting there and reflecting on how shit of a night it’s been. He's nursing a black eye and a few cracked ribs, I left my arm in the bad guy’s lair. Like I said, bad fight. Anyway Spidey asks me if there's anything he can do to help hurry the healing factor process along. He was super sincere about it but I’m a smartass and I couldn't pass up the chance so I replied, “actually I could use a hand.” And then there was just this eruption of laughter. We were laughing our asses off. It wasn’t even that funny either but we couldn’t stop. We were practically pissing ourselves. 

“It completely changed the tone of the night. All of a sudden this really shitty fight that probably would’ve bugged us both for weeks was nothing but the leadup to my punchline. We eventually came here and got takeout to eat on the roof cause neither of us were really in a state for formal dining. We stayed up laughing and talking and eating this ramen up on that roof until morning. It ended up being a really great night and it started this tradition. Food helps speed up both of our healing factors so whenever we get our asses handed to us we come here to fuel back up afterwards. I guess that’s why I brought you here. Whenever I’ve had a really shit day it always seems like coming here turns it into a better one. I hoped it’d be the same for you.”

Peter smiled to himself. Hearing Wade’s recollection brought back all the memories of that night. He was glad that it had meant as much to Wade as it had to Peter and that they shared the fond association with this place. “Well, cheers to turning around a real shit day then,” Peter said as he raised up his glass to Wade who in turn clinked his own against the side.

“Cheers Peter.”


	8. Chapter 8

A few days had passed without incident since Wade met civilian Peter. As usual Peter checked Spiderman’s email multiple times daily to make sure he didn’t miss the other man reaching out to resume their regular patrolling. When the message finally came, Peter was relieved and excited by the prospect of seeing his friend again.

They met on their usual roof at their usual time. Their team ups were so common that really no details needed to be ironed out. Peter arrived first but Deadpool showed up not long after, wrapping the younger man in a hug and lifting him off his feet. Spiderman mocked protest but was secretly just as happy to see him. As they caught up their idle chit chat was cut short by the sound of a woman’s scream in the distance. Even this was a common occurrence, the routine of it so familiar that as soon as the fight was over conversation resumed as if unpaused. It felt good to be back in the swing of things.

“What’re we feeling for our post patrol meal tonight Spidey?” Deadpool inquired. “I’ve been craving Chimichangas from that place over on 10th. Oh! Or maybe tacos from that place on 4th?” He put a finger to his chin indicating a deep internal debate was taking place. “Fuck it!” Deadpool announced with a grandiose swing of his arms. “I’ve decided we’re getting both. I’ll head over to 4th, you swing by 10th, and we can meet somewhere in the middle to chow down.”

As Peter thought about how delicious the plan sounded his stomach rumbled. Then again, the last time he had eaten a feast of Mexican food, things hadn’t ended so well. Deadpool looked so excited though and Peter didn’t want to stand in the way of the other man’s hunger. “What would you like me to get for you?” he asked, having made up his mind.

“For me? No way pal, for us! We’re going to stuff our faces. Just order whatever you feel like.” Wade slid a stack of cash into Peter’s hand. “You know the drill man, get anything and everything. We’ve got fast enough metabolisms between the two of us to eat those restaurateurs out of house and home. Go crazy.”

“I dunno. I’m not all that hungry,” said Peter with the shake of his head.

Deadpool snorted. “Bullshit you’re not hungry. Now, get gone! I want my food and more time spent talking is less time spent eating.”

Peter reluctantly gave in. Normally he would be happy to indulge in this kind of extravagance with Deadpool but he was unsure how he would explain his lack of appetite. Nonetheless, Peter made for the restaurant. 

The order was prepared quite quickly. Yet another perk of the mask was the eagerness people had to please him. Even the other customers were happy to let him jump the line if it meant they had a chance for a photo. 

As he swung back to meet with Deadpool once again, Peter felt intoxicated by the smell of the takeout slung over his shoulder. It was going to be impossible to say no to eating this.

When he met back up with his colleague they dug in. Just as Peter suspected, Wade noticed him picking through the meal. He expected there to be more commentary and mocking, however, Wade simply wrapped up half the food in one of the takeout bags as if packing up to leave. He looked almost sheepish, an appearance quite out of place on the man. “So, I thought you were just doing your usual selfless thing where you feel bad about spending my money on food, but clearly you’re really just not hungry.” 

Peter gulped. He wasn’t sure where this line of thought was going. Had the other man put two and two together and realized that puny Peter Parker and Spiderman were one in the same? 

Deadpool scratched the back of his neck. “Anyways, why don’t you take this home with you? It’ll just go bad at my place. My fridge is all busted,” he said as he handed the bag of food to Spiderman.

Just like that the nerves building within Peter melted away. Leave it to Deadpool to decipher exactly what Spiderman needed without him even having to vocalize it. Just another perk to their close partnership. 

From that point on the night was uneventful. An attempted mugging here, a drug bust there. Nothing out of the ordinary. An hour or so before sunrise the two parted ways promising to meet up the following evening. As Peter de-masked and made his way back to his usual stoop, he couldn’t help the spring in his step as he swung the bag of lukewarm Mexican leftovers back and forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like that I have risen from the Lazarus Pit to bring you this chapter!
> 
> For real though, I am sorry for taking so long between updates. I had a bit of writers block that wasn't helped by the fact I was working 7 days a week (yay essential services during the pandemic). I am determined to get back to a regular posting schedule.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience, I hope you continue to enjoy this story!


	9. Chapter 9

Public parks are tricky places in Peter’s experience. On the on hand, a park bench can provide one of the only semblances of ergonomic seating for someone in his situation. On the other hand, they get a lot of foot traffic, often families with children, who don’t take too kindly to an unshowerd hoodlum taking up what they deem as “their” space. This is even more complicated by the fact that the stereotype of a homeless New Yorker frequents these parks to cause disturbances. That is why Peter tends to steer clear on busy days.

Luckily, thanks to the seemingly never ending cold snap, parks had been relatively untravelled recently. That is why Peter decided to indulge himself in a more comfortable seat. The leftover Mexican from his escapades with Deadpool had long since expired. Peter had nevertheless picked through, searching for anything that might be salvageable before chucking the rest in the bin. 

He was able to eat more now which was a blessing and a curse. On nights where he went out with Deadpool he lined his stomach with a greasy slop that kept him alive and put a little more meat on his bones. On the nights where Deadpool was busy however, his body roared in protest from the breaking of routine. 

Peter was sick and tired of bare necessities like food taking up so much of his life. He had forgone the typical concerns of young men his age in favor of these basic needs. He traded asking pretty girls on dates for asking them for spare change. Traded landlord squabbles for people chasing him off their sidewalks. Traded perusing the mall for digging through donation bins and dumpsters. 

He was sick of it. 

As Peter thought about this he dug his hands into the pockets of his woolen coat, rubbing his fingers against his palm for warmth. He leaned his head back against the backboard of the bench so his eyes were directed to the sky and took in a deep breath of frigid air. 

A memory of a day long-forgotten was trying to push its way up to the forefront of his mind. That oh so familiar deja vu of revisiting places he had frequented in his former life. Gwen’s warm laugh as she chucked a snowball his way. Her shriek when he retaliated by dumping the snow down her back. The feeling of her soft hands on his wrist as she pulled him in closer, snaking her hands up to touch his face. Her soft lips as she-

“Oh. Em. Gee! Well if it isn’t my good friend Peter!”

Instantly broken out of his trance Peter sprung up from his relaxed position. It was rare that anyone could sneak up on him these days. He must’ve been much more deep in thought than he had realized.

Before him Deadpool stood, one hand on his hip and weight balanced on one foot, a plastic grocery bag tossed over his shoulder. It was an overconfident pose that paralleled his arrogant tone. He had clearly prepared his speech before interrupting Peter because he launched into the dialogue without really looking at the other man.

“What a wild coinky-dink! There I was, sitting over at F.E.A.S.T. and thinking to myself how I hadn’t had a chance to see my good pal Peety in a while. I started wondering what he might be up to and then, you’ll never believe this part, I just happen to get lost on my walk home and stumble my way into this park that just happens to be a place that you mentioned while we were hanging out. What are the odds?” With that, Wade properly looked at Peter’s face for the first time, his posture and voice abruptly changing. “Oh shit man are you okay?”

Peter was confused and unprepared for the sincerity after such a staged narrative. He noted the whites of Deadpool’s mask intently fixed on his face and he reached up one hand to find his cheeks wet. He quickly brushed the drops away and spun back around to sit on the bench again.

Peter tried to imitate the casual and cocky tone that Deadpool had earlier displayed. To his credit, Deadpool ignored Peter’s voice crack. “Oh hey. Yeah, crazy odds,” he said. 

Deadpool slowly approached and took his seat beside the man as if approaching a wild animal. The pair sat in silence for a moment before Wade pulled up the plastic bag he had been carrying and placed it in his lap. He opened the bag and peered inside. With exaggerated surprise and a home-alone-esque gape Deadpool announced, “Speaking of crazy odds, it looks like the Vietnamese place I just got lunch from gave me two Bahn Mi instead of just one.” He turned his head to Peter, who sat completely still. “I guess I’ll just have to throw this one away,” he said. Deadpool raised a masked eyebrow at Peter, a mechanic that still puzzled the younger man. “That is,” Deadpool said, “Unless you wanted to eat it?”

Peter sighed at last and stuck out a hand in Deadpool’s direction. “Wow, what a lucky day for me,” said Peter, voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Right?” exclaimed Deadpool excitedly as he dug into the sandwich. “So,” Deadpool began, mouth full. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Uh not much,” replied Peter, taking his first bite.

“Yeah me neither,” said Deadpool. 

“Why’d you uh…” Peter wasn’t yet sure what words would follow that. “Why’d you come find me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, this was all a matter of fate.” 

Peter clearly wasn’t satisfied by this response.

“And well, Barb wanted me to make sure you’d be coming back to the shelter.”

That made more sense. Of course as a member of F.E.A.S.T. Wade would want to be checking up on someone in need. It had nothing to do with Peter specifically. He took another bite.

A moment passed and Deadpool turned his face towards Peter. “Okay maybe that’s not exactly it either.”

Now Peter was just confused. If it wasn't out of obligation then why did Wade track down some random guy to have lunch with him on a bench in the cold.

Wade scraped his toe along the frozen grass. “Look I don’t have a lot of friends.” He barked a quick laugh, “Fuck that sounded depressing hold on let me back track. I have friends,” the man clarified hurriedly. “Spidey and I are like peas in a pod and even though Weasel claims that he would gut me like a fish if he knew it would stick, I know that he likes seeing my ugly mug roll up every now and then. I guess what I mean is that it can be tough sometimes when I get back from my ugh… job to get accustomed to being in New York again. Especially to be around heroes. It doesn’t help that most of the people in this city still see my mask and turn heel to run the other way. But the other day when we were having lunch it felt like you didn’t even notice. I know that’s dumb and I sound dumb and you were probably being nice and now that I am saying this all out loud I see that I have basically tracked you down and shown up out of the blue and maybe you were avoiding F.E.A.S.T. because you didn’t want to see me again and oh shit now I’m rambling this is a thing I do, I ramble, and when I get started it is really hard for me to stop because I start thinking of all the things you could say if you had a chance to say them and I’d rather live in a state of not knowing whether the cat in the box was dead ya know? Like that famous guy with the dead cat? Sodinger or something? And he puts it in a shoe box or something which is totally animal cruelty by the way and-”

“Schrodinger.”

“What?” Deadpool finally stopped to take a breath.

“It’s Schrodinger.” 

“Oh. Yeah.”

“You don’t have to worry about that by the way. This cat’s not dead,” said Peter.

“Oh. Okay,” Deadpool replied.

Unsure of how to proceed, Peter changed the subject. “This is a delicious sandwich,” he said, breaking the tension. “Thank you Wade.”

“You’re welcome Peter.”

With that, both men turned to watch the breeze blowing in the boughs of the trees. The passing moments brief but filled with weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay multi-chapter update! Trying to make up for months of inactivity by dropping a few chapters at once. Comments are always appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

“Fuck you Peter Parker!,” Deadpool exclaimed. “I really thought you and I were starting to become friends but clearly that’s not going to happen.”

Peter scoffed. “Clearly not.”

“Well, ya know it was a good run. I guess this is where we part ways then. A little over a month of hanging out and it all ends like this? Gah-- what was I thinking. I should’ve known something was off about you.

“Ha!” Peter snarled. “You’re one to talk! The people you’ve killed as a mercenary? That’s something I can get over, but this? Unforgivable! Everyone knows that Carlisle is the hottest Cullen and you are just factually wrong if you try to disagree with that.” He shot the other man a teasing, but warm, glare.

Wade gasped, “look I’m not saying that Carlisle isn’t hot. The man is an absolute Zaddy! I’m just saying that Alice Cullen could peg me any day of the week, ya know?”

“Hmph-” Peter nodded with an ear-to-ear grin. “You know, I might be able to get on board with a middle ground to save the friendship.” 

Deadpool placed a hand to his chin, intrigued. “Oh?”

“Yeah, at least we both agree it’s not Jasper.”

Deadpool’s mask shriveled in disgust. “Barf! Who would pick Jasper? Let’s not forget the man was a part of the confederate army and Smeyers just glossed over all that to focus on Edward and Bella’s angsty bullshit.”

“What?” Peter questioned aghast. “Angsty bullshit? I would’ve thought you’d be super into angst. Ya know, the whole pining hearts thing? Watching a couple slowly fall in love yet unable to act because of extenuating circumstances or insecurities? Ooh! And then there’s those stories where you, as a reader, know that the pair will end up together even before they do so every line has you reeling with dramatic irony? It seems right up your alley!”

“Well Petey, clearly you have a lot more to learn about me.”

“Clearly,” Peter agreed.

It was fun to joke around with Wade out of the mask. The conversation topics were relatively similar --pop culture and food being the most common-- but it was nice to be able to share the other side of his life with someone. 

During the day, Peter and Wade would spend time together. They frequented restaurants, went on walks or just relaxed on a park bench like that first time oh so many days ago. At night, Spiderman and Deadpool patrolled the streets, stopping crime and debriefing afterwards. It was a perfect system. A new routine.

Sure there are complications when your best friend thinks you are two different people. For one, you hear a lot of the same stories multiple times. Peter didn’t mind that though. He liked hearing Wade’s perspective on their escapades and adventures together. There was something in Wade’s voice when he discussed his missions with Spidey that warmed Peter from the inside out. Especially when the other man would go on tangents about the curvature and “smackability quotient” of his Spiderman’s ass in spandex. Those particular stories made Peter wish he were in the costume so he could hide the blush.

The other major difficulty was keeping the two worlds separate. This aspect was harder than Peter had expected. He had to catch himself from asking about information given to Peter when he was dressed as Spiderman. He also had to be careful to note which of his own stories belonged to Peter and which belonged to Spidey. Sometimes it gave him a headache trying to weave together the two persona’s lives. It was worth it however to finally feel like Peter Parker existed again. It had been too long since anyone cared how Peter was doing. Who knew that keeping his identity a secret would actually mean that Peter could share more of himself with the other man.

Even something as simple as hearing Wade utter Peter’s real name filled him with joy. 

“Okay, now that we’ve got that settled, which Fraggle would you bang and why?”

Peter had been taking a swig from his pop can when the question caught him off guard. He held back the spit take, sending soda rocketing into his nasal canal.

“Ew,” Deadpool grimaced. “Did you just snarf?”

“You can’t just ask those questions out of the blue like that!”

“Okay, fine,” Wade conceded. “How about this, on the count of three we both just say our answer okay?”

Peter shrugged. “Seems fair.”

“1… 2…. 3…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short and fun chapter for you guys. Little fluffy but mostly banter. Feel free to discuss your answers to Wade's questions in the comments haha!


	11. Chapter 11

Spiderman’s fist collided with the cheekbone of a mugger, the loud thwack sounding through the alleyway. The criminal fell to the ground, a hand slowly reaching up to clutch his ribs. In an entirely predictable move, he revealed a handgun and pointed it at the young vigilante. As he pulled back the hammer and squeezed the trigger Spiderman felt little more than boredom at the monotony. 

“Come on man!” he said, easily dodging the bullets that whizzed past his ear. “You’re really bringing a knife to a gunfight here. Or I guess in this case, a much less impressive gun to a gunfight.”

The perp was standing now, determination and focus evident in his posture. “Oh yeah?” he taunted, closing one eye as he stared down the barrel. “Cause it seems to me I’m the only one here with a gun.”

“That’s cute,” came Deadpool’s welcome voice. “He thinks that puny thing counts as a gun!”

The heroes moved in a flash, disarming the perp and tying him up for the cops. 

They watched as the red and blue lights faded into the distance, legs hanging from the roof of the building. Peter loved these views. No matter how often he sat atop the tallest skyscrapers in the city, he still felt himself in awe of the magical night time lights twinkling around his home town. He wondered if Deadpool was thinking the same thing in this moment of calm, quiet contemplation. He considered asking the other man if that was the case, but eventually settled on enjoying the silence and company until Deadpool inevitably broke it himself.

“Man, I love this shit,” he said.

Peter smiled beneath the mask, not needing any clarification on what the other man had be referring to. “Yeah, me too.”

“I mean, did you see us back there? You were all ‘stop ne'er-do-well, in the name of the law!’ and I was all ‘say hello to my little friends.’” He mimed biting out the pin of a hand grenade. “And did you see the look on those chucklefucks faces? They didn’t know what hit ‘em! They saw you appear --and that’s already game over-- but then I show up and now they’re shitting their pants and begging you to save them from me!” He wiped away an imaginary tear. “It was priceless.”

“I agree. You were super on it tonight. Your quips and banter could’ve rivaled my own. I might’ve used a bit less colourful language but still impressive. Oh, and of course as per usual, my compliments to Bea and Arthur for their spectacular work. You need to give those girls a raise DP.”

“You’re right. They’ve really been pulling their weight lately.”

Peter smiled. He liked seeing Wade happy after a team up. Sometimes he overlooked how far they had come together. The days of being concerned that Deadpool would go too far and kill a target were long behind them. All his apprehension had been replaced with trust. 

Trust was another thing that Peter did not experience much anymore. It was almost frightening to recognize it in his friendship with Wade.

“You’re getting super good about your use of force by the way,” Peter praised. “I don’t want you to think it went unappreciated. I’m really proud of how far you’ve come.”

Wade’s mood soured at that compliment. Strange. Peter made a mental note to try and figure out what he had said wrong to avoid it in the future. He was about to apologize for his misstep when Deadpool spoke. “They’re sending me out of town again,” he said flatly.

Peter’s heart sank. That explained the shift. He knew how much Deadpool disliked his missions abroad lately. SHIELD had been sending him more and more frequently. Each time for seemingly longer stents of time. When he returned, Deadpool never spoke about these trips. This was a fact that Peter had just accepted as a part of their relationship and never really questioned. That was, until his alter ego ran into Deadpool at FEAST while the other man was supposedly on a business trip. Since then, the merc has made the occasional offhand comment to his new civilian friend about these trips that had set off some warning signs in Peter’s head. 

Peter wanted to ask more questions but figured it would be out of place considering any details had been disclosed to his other identity. That said, he took the time to gain as much information as he could without teetering across the line of the other persona’s knowledge base.

“Oh. Okay,” he said, trying not to portray any emotion, positive or negative, in his voice. “How long will you be gone?”

“Shouldn’t be too long.” The man replied. “Hopefully a week, no more than two.”

“Are you at least going somewhere warm? It’s so frickin' cold here lately that I might have to forget New York and jump into your suitcase to join you,” Peter joked.

Wade’s head snapped in his direction, masked eyes boring deep into his own. “Don’t joke about that. Don’t joke about leaving New York, don’t joke about coming with me on one of SHIELD’s stupid fucking missions. Just…” he sighed and looked back out at the city.

Peter was taken aback once again. It was as if each conversation revealed a new layer of the man, this layer apparently more painful than many others. Peter knew the feeling well though he wasn’t sure what particularly caused Wade to feel that way. He recognized the man wouldn’t be sharing any of the information that might help him puzzle out the circumstance, so instead Peter went in the direction of comfort. As if on instinct, he reached out a hand to rest on the anti-hero’s shoulder, his elbow falling limp against the man's back. Deadpool accepted the touch and tension left his frame as he turned again to his compatriot.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Wade. Though, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

Wade leaned back, bracing his body against the roof with folded arms. “I’ll uh, send you an email when I’m back?”

“Absolutely.”  
______

“Hey-o Pete!”

Peter groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his face further into his sleeping bag. “What time is it?” 

“No clue pal, but I gotta run pretty soon so wake up enough that you’ll actually absorb the information I'm giving you.”

Peter grumbled but obliged, raising his head up and grimacing as he adjusted to the brighter lights. Why on earth did Peter tell Deadpool about Mr. Delmar’s shop? Now the merc had easy access to wake him up at these ungodly hours. He also really should’ve gone to sleep earlier but he had spent the whole night --and some of the morning-- with Deadpool. He needed to maximize the time they spent together before his best friend went out of town for two weeks. 

“Jeez sleepyhead. Am I going to have to slap you awake? Scratch that actually, that wouldn’t be a great way to maintain this relationship we’re building. Any who, wake up.”

“I’m up,” moaned the man.

“Oh goodie. Listen up Buttercup, I’m not going to be around for a few days. Just a work trip but uh, I brought you some food for tonight since we were supposed to be meeting for dinner.” Deadpool cocked his head. “Are you even listening to me here?”

Peter was groggy but appreciative of the gesture. “Yeah, loud and clear. Will you come find me when you’re back?”

Deadpool grinned. “Yeah? Yeah I can do that if you want me to?”

“Good, cause I do.”

“Awesome!” A beeping sound came from somewhere on Deadpool’s person and he pushed up his sleeve to reveal an impressive collection of Kello-Kitty and Powerpuff-girl watches. He determined which one was sounding the alarm, silenced it, and said his goodbyes as he skipped away. “See you in a couple days Petey!”

Strange, Peter thought. ‘A couple days’ is an odd way to describe up to two weeks of absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update, check back tomorrow for more!
> 
> My eternal struggle with this fic is that I have so much I want to write for it, but I also have so many other ideas for fics that I want to get started on! Especially one idea for a DC fic that I have been mentally writing and story boarding for a couple months. I am determined to not have two ongoing multi-chapter slow-burns at once though! That's why I will likely be updating this one until it is finished before I move on to the next work.
> 
> Other writers, how do you guys deal with multiple story ideas at once? I'm new to sharing my works here so any sage wisdom is welcome!


	12. Chapter 12

It was less than 48 hours later when Peter found himself missing having his partner around. If he thought these business trips were annoying when they altered Spidey’s routine, it was a whole new beast when Peter’s life was also thrown off its axis.

He had grown used to having someone to talk to and it wasn't until patrolling on that second night that he realized he had gone an entire day without using his voice. As he perched on a fire escape, ear turned to the city, Peter focused on listening for any signs of distress. The night had been quiet so far, as if the metropolis itself was waiting for Wade’s return too. 

Peter figured he might as well take advantage of the peaceful evening alone to spend some time swinging around the city. It had been a long time since he was comfortable wasting energy on something that was mostly for fun. He stood on the ledge, toes angling over the side and leaned forward. Suddenly he was airborne, plummeting at an increasing velocity. Hurtling towards the ground. The city rose up around him as he flipped through the air, unfurling and reaching up with his spinnerets to grasp on the building across the street. As tension began to accumulate on his webs, Spiderman’s trajectory changed. In a graceful arc his descent altered, the centrifugal force allowing him to gain lift and upwards mobility. At the apex of his arc Peter shot another web. As he drifted from building to building he couldn’t help feeling as though he were back in the acrobatic pattern of Spiderman’s youth. 

Suddenly, the sound of a distant gunshot alerted the man to danger. Peter changed course to investigate. Coming up on the origin of the sound, Peter dropped down to the roof of the warehouse. From a crack between loose boards he was able to determine the situation. An arms deal gone south. 

Just once, Peter wished he could have a nice evening without some major criminal activity. No worries though, it was nothing that a friendly neighborhood Spiderman couldn’t handle. He couldn’t wait for the papers to hear about this one. It’ll be hard for them to spin stopping a major deal like this as a bad thing, right?

He took reconnaissance and waited for the perfect moment to strike, carefully observing who appeared to be in charge and who was just a paid lackey down on their luck. He looped one of his webs against the roof of the warehouse and crawled in, keeping close to the ceiling. When he was ready, Peter descended from his web in a classic Spidey move. There were only 3 men. This would be a quick fix.

Or so he thought.

Peter easily disarmed the first man, wrapping him up in a cocoon of webbing, mouth sealed shut so as not to alert the others. The next two were more difficult as a misstep had allowed for the loud creak of a floor board. The men rushed at him, guns brandished. Thanks to his Spidey sense however, Peter easily escaped the projectiles and took the situation under control. 

Now, all he had to do was open up the crates and do a quick tally of the weapons seized. The first box was unassuming enough. Mostly ballistics. The second had some interesting alien tech, clearly on a special order of some kind. Behind the shipping container near the far wall Peter noticed a door. Assuming that there could be more merchandise behind it, Peter decided to investigate. As he approached, one of his captives thrashed, voice muffled by the gag. 

Undeterred, Peter opened the door and was met with the faces of multiple startled men staring back at him. Shit. Looks like he had misjudged the situation. 

Peter’s Spider sense was going crazy. He needed to get out of there as soon as possible. Spiderman crouched, arm pointing to the rafters and began to extend a web. As he did, the men charged. He jumped, desperately trying to escape their grasp but did not succeed. A firm grip on the back of his costume flung him to the ground. Around him, the men who now held the upper hand were chortling and boasting with each other. One delivered a quick kick to his ribs causing Peter to curl in on his side. Just then another kick was delivered to his now exposed back, just beside his spine. Ouch. A kidney shot. Those were the worst.

Kick after kick followed, knocking the hero around and stealing his breath. No inch of his body was spared. “Well, well well.” One man said, kneeling down to look Peter in the rapidly swelling eye. “I guess the rumors lied. I was told to stay out of these parts since a certain spider had such a grip on this city,” the man gleefully said. “Turns out, Spiderman should’ve stayed away from me.” 

Peter mustered up the courage and muscle strength to spit in the man’s face. It splattered against his cheek, staining it a grim red. The man’s face wrinkled as he reached up and wiped away the blood with a gloved finger.

“You’re going to regret that you little pest.” The man stood back up, indicating for his men to pull Spidey to his feet too. He turned to one of the crates, reaching in to retrieve some kind of bow staff. He turned back to Peter with an eerie grin. “I could just kill you here and now you know.” He drew back the stick and brought it down on the side of Spiderman’s body. “But the word on the street is that you’ve somehow made Wade Wilson your bitch. He and I used to run in the same circles and knowing him, unless you walk out of here alive, none of us will either.” Another blow straight to Peter’s knee, caused the leg to buckle beneath him. “So we’re going to have some fun and you’re going to go running home to that fucking mutant freak and tell him just how merciful we were. Isn’t that right boys?”

The chorus of men around him made varying sounds of agreement.

The last thing Peter saw was the staff being brought down again, this time heading straight for his skull. Then, the world cut to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading as always!


End file.
